In the Wake of War
by Shockwave's-Apprentice
Summary: Somewhere in the pacific there is a small chain of islands called the Isle of Thunder. It houses the most deadly and dangerous war criminals in history: Decepticons, Blackwings and anyone else as evil. With no other way out of her backwater town, Milla, then 18, enlisted in the military as an observer/liason-which means she has to maintain contact with the worst of the worst...
1. Introduction

Heya. Note: This is MovieverseXTFPrimeverse, so Dreadwing, Knockout and Breakdown are in this (though I don't think I've mentioned BD...) Anyhow. Other things:

-There will eventually be torture scenes (not for some chapters yet)

-There are no pairings.

-Yes, the Bots and Cons are dragons, but PLEASE DON'T SHY AWAY BECAUSE OF THAT; It's good writing and THE SUPERIORITY COMPLEX AND RELATIONSHIPS TRANSLATE VERY WELL TO DRAGONS. If you don't like dragons, imagine that they're flying robots.

-This story focuses mainly on the Cons.

-ENJOY~

In the Wake of War

**Introduction**

I stared at my sketches. It was amazing how far they had progressed in the few weeks since I'd left the isolated village of Waterfort. I cast a glance around the barracks. There were only four women who worked here, and one of them didn't even live on base. There was me of course, but I don't know if you'd call me a woman. I was barely 18. Three of the four other women simply tied back their hair, but Mari and I weren't ever concerned about our appearance, so we had buzz-cuts like the men. I liked it; super low maintenance and you didn't stand out. But then again, my job made me stand out. I was here to keep tabs on the prisoners.

Nobody who knew anything about the prisoners expected me to stay long. Several would ask me if I'd written my will as I walked past. I ignored them; I would go about my work the way I would go about my work. Their opinion meant little to me. I had to admit, the work I did was hard. The prisoners were impossible to manage and even harder to get close to. They were dragons after all, and they had their pride.

There was one other person who did the same job as me, but there were bands of prisoners, essentially gangs, that interacted with one another and the one that Justin managed was a particularly isolated one. But he did retrieve tidbits about who liked who and who didn't like who and who had affairs with whom. And that was better than nothing, so the superiors kept him. Everyone else who had even so much as tried to interact with the Higher Clans (as they were called; the one Justin worked with was the Low Clan) either had no success, or, more likely, were killed. It was a dangerous job, and though it scared me, I had devised a system that seemed to be working. I would observe Clan activities from afar, sketching each dragon and assigning them an Identification Tag, which was a sort of nickname I thought up for them. They always had a number sequence that was their official Tag, but I might assign an informal nickname to a dragon who exhibited a particular behavior. For example, a large green female identified as 64442 was often flirting with males from other Clans, so I called her Jailbait.

All of the Higher Clans were dangerous organizations to begin with, but there were two that I was particularly warned against. These two were the Blackwings and the Decepticons. All the Clans had been rogue military organizations, but these two had been the worst. The Blackwings had been masters of destruction rivaled only by the Decepticons. The Decepticons were the archenemy of the Autobots, a small band of dragons that guarded the Coast under the command of their leader, Optimus Prime, and their liaison, Major Lennox. The prison where I worked was often called "the second Alcatraz" because of its location. The prison was a system of islands called the Isle of Thunder that was a one-and-a-half-week flight or 3 week boat journey from shore. The dragons of the prison could not fly such a distance, but if they were to try, then there were ships and dragons ready to stop them that regularly patrolled the seas between the Isle and the Coast. But though that stopped the loss of life on the mainland, violence between prisoners was frequent. Six or seven inmates died per year from Clan or personal conflict. Essentially, they had their own civilization on the Isle. They had territories (excluding the main island, which was communal) and sometimes hunted for their own fish in addition to the rations they were issued. Their hierarchies from the mainland war were thought to have dissolved, but no-one was really sure.

I generally sat somewhere that the Clans could see me, but out of the way. I did not wish for them to think that I was spying on them. For the most part I was left alone. I sighed, pulling my waterproof hood over my head as it began to rain for the third time that week. I had specialized equipment, much more than the ordinary troops. I had two uniforms; the outer one, which was standard waterproof camouflage clothes with a hood and thick yet light boots, and the inner one, a camouflage t-shirt. But I had something that the security troops didn't. I wore custom armor under my uniform. It was a light yet incredibly strong metal, the same that was in my boots, about an inch thick, and protected me from any major trauma to my internal organs. It was arrow-proof too. The stuff was so new that the metalsmith who was working with the combinations had forged it himself. I had a helmet, but I was not required to wear it at all times. It covered my head all the way down the back of my neck. It also attached to the back of my armor and held my head in place during extreme shock. It was nearly impossible to break the wearer's neck. I wore it if I was closer than I'd have liked to be to the dragons.

Justin was the reason that the superiors expected more from me. _He didn't have any problems with establishing a relationship with his Clan,_ they'd say. Well, that was because his Clan was made up of rogues that saw the benefits of close human relations. The Higher Clans despised humans. But the superiors expected just as much from me as they got from Justin. Justin had been working with his Clan for five years. And for five years the superiors had not found a person who could connect with the Higher Clans. They expected information from the person in my position, and it was something that the person in my place could not give them. Until me. I had made it farther than any before. This was because of my identifying system. I had begun to place dragons in Clans based off of who they interacted with. I did not know which Clans were which, but I at least had established who didn't like who on a personal level. The superiors wanted more from me, but I seemed the most promising recruit, so they allowed me to stay. This confused people seeing as I was extremely young, a female, and was not originally enlisted in the army. But I was an observer. And that was what the superiors wanted. I had ended up here via a strange course. I had been sketching the wyverns (reptiles that had wings rather than front limbs and walked upright) near my remote hometown for years. I had learned their social habits and had collections of notes and sketches of them. One of my neighbors' brothers worked in the army, and knew one of the recruiters for the Isle. He had told the recruiter about me. I hadn't ever pictured myself doing anything besides the smattering of carpentry and blacksmithing my father did, but the army was the only way out of the sleepy little village that I'd called home. I had taken the job on the condition that I would never be in battle. They had explained that I wouldn't even be placed on a squadron. I was enlisted though. I had the rank of Private, but I had been told that if I proved myself, I would climb in the ranks quickly, as I would face no opposition. They were already considering advancing me. I honestly didn't care very much what markings I had on my uniform; I had no lust for power. I only wished to increase my status so as to increase my credibility. Justin was a Corporal. I hated having to respect him seeing as he was such a jerk to me; he didn't even allow me to speak to his Clan. Looking back, that was probably what saved me. If I'd associated myself with the Lower Clan, I would never have gained the respect of the Higher ones.

The closest I'd come to contact was when I'd exchanged a few words with a midnight blue alpha male called 86745 after I'd strayed too close to a smaller male from another Clan. He'd chased away the other dragon before frowning at me and asking me how long I expected to continue doing my job. I'd said "until I can't". He'd huffed and walked away. I had not informed the superiors of the conversation because I decided that getting excited over thirteen words would only portray my insecurity. But those thirteen words would influence my relationship with one of the Clans and save the lives of several prisoners.


	2. Chapter 1: Where I stood

OMG you actually bothered to read my crazy dragon stuff? I LOVE YOU~ ^^

I hope you like the writing; I try to be both funny and serious. Please review; I'd love some feedback!

I have about 5 chaps done at this point, but I'll be slow in upload.

I do plan to post my illustrations for this on my DA account, maybe some here too? *sees image manager and goes to investigate* Any image I put here is mine. MEANS I DREW IT ALL BY MAHSELF!

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Barricade

Bonecrusher

Dreadwing

Knockout

Wily (OC)

There are OC's in this because the dragons have been here a while. They breed. Wouldn't humans? Plus not enough official 'Cons that are female. I mean come on, are we girls THAT gross? Or weak? *snarls*

**Chapter 1: Where I Stood**

I went to bed early; I generally tried to so that I could be up before dawn. Some dragons never seemed to sleep, and I didn't like to miss the chance of watching them alone. The more dragons were out, the harder it was to keep track of them. There were about 450 dragons living in the Isle, and that was a lot for me to handle in comparison to the ten or so wyverns I'd watched at home. I woke at around four, changed into my uniform, grabbed my sketch pad, and slipped out of the barracks quietly so as not to wake my roommates. They had to rise at six; I could get up whenever I wanted so long as I retrieved the information that the superiors craved. I signed out on the sheet and moved silently through the door and out into the field. Justin used a flashlight if it got dark; I did not. My purpose was to appear as a natural presence, not the pair of eyes that I actually was. I settled myself atop a small rock amid the tall grass, visible enough that it was clear I was there, but not standing out. There was one dragon, a small black male with scattered white flecks and a white mark around his right eye called 86652, who prowled around bit, but he vanished into the skies after about ten minutes. After about six minutes, a larger male with scales the color of upturned clay landed near me. He didn't seem to notice that I was there. I knew him; he was a particularly temperamental member of the same Clan as 86652. This was 85548. Something was definitely amiss about him; he staggered to the ration station, which was where the guards left the food for the prisoners. There was only enough left per dragon for a human to eat because dragons could shift into a human form at will. Generally, they took their food elsewhere; they did not like to be seen as humans. However, at around five in the morning, the rations had not yet been left out; the guards put it out at around six fifteen to six thirty. Finding the platform empty, he flopped near it and licked himself furiously. Then he groaned and stretched out on his side. My curiosity got the better of me and I slipped my sketchpad and pencil into my backpack and crept forward to get a better look. I got to about 20 feet away from him before he realized I was there and rolled to his feet. He snarled, and moved toward me. I backed away, head low in a submissive gesture I'd seen other dragons do when they'd lost a battle. I looked at his eyes. Normally they were a glittering mixture of gold and scarlet, but today they were pale and his vision unfocused. I saw only a primitive rage in them. He limped badly, favoring his right front paw, which shook violently whenever he placed his weight on it. Frothy liquid dripped from his jaws. He was clearly not well. I increased my speed and so did he. I waited, tension building, for the right moment to bolt. I felt my boot hit loose dirt, and knew it had to be here. I kicked a cloud of dust in 85548's face and turned to my left and took off in the direction of the base. Unfortunately for me, however sick he was, 85548 was not incapacitated. His tail hit my upper back at an incredible speed and sent me flying a good 45 feet. My vision was black before I even hit the ground.

I awoke to the growling of thunder and the sharp hissing of rain on stone. I opened my eyes and looked around. The first thing I noticed was that I was lying on my stomach on the floor of a cave. The second thing I noticed was that I didn't have my shirt on. I moved to push myself up onto my hands and knees, but my left shoulder screamed in pain when I tried to lift myself. I carefully turned myself over and sat upright. My backpack, shirt, jacket, upper body armor and helmet were missing. Whoever had brought me here had at least been civilized enough to leave me my boots, pants and underwear, though the strap had been moved away from my left shoulder. I replaced it in its proper position and searched around with my eyes for my missing items.

"You're certainly not one to wait patiently." I froze. It was a male voice, and besides being intimidated by my unfamiliar surroundings, I was not fond of the idea of a man seeing me without my shirt on. I caught sight of him lurking in a doorway and backed myself up against the wall, my knees drawn to my chest. "Well then, I suppose you're wondering where you are." He noticed my frequent glances at the entrance. "Oh, I don't think you're going anywhere anytime soon." My eyes darted around, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. Nothing. I scrabbled to my feet and inched toward the opening. I would take a cold, rainy night over the strange man any day. "You're lucky you didn't die, you know," he continued lazily. "You'd have had your neck snapped had it not been for this." I froze. He was holding my helmet and armor, the latter of which had two vicious puncture marks in it. Puncture marks, I realized, that punched all the way through it. I touched my shoulder and felt bandages. "I'm surprised that they weren't deeper wounds; your shoulder blade was virtually untouched. As for the actual shoulder joint... well, that's more complicated." I frowned at him. "The impact didn't break any bones, and for that I credit your armor, but your left shoulder was dislocated. I've reset it, but, as you've discovered, it will be quite sore for some time." A bolt of lightning bathed the cave in light. And as I watched, the strange man's irises shone red in the reflected light.

"You're a dragon…" I said quietly. Now the other strange things about him made sense. The red highlights in his black hair, the clothes he wore. It was a military uniform, I realized. And the symbol in the corner was the Decepticons'. But it had extra marking below it; a leaf and a spear. He was a medic.

"Well observed. And you are a human, and a very young one at that. Might I inquire as to why you are here?" I realized that he must not know me. Perhaps he hadn't seen me, or another dragon brought him food.

"I… I work at the base. I'm an observer." He seemed surprised.

"An observer? So you're here to make sure we behave, are you?" he asked smugly. I gave him a baleful look.

"No. I'm trying to better understand the social structures of your Clans so that my superiors can make sure you behave." He raised an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't it best be the other way around? Shouldn't your commander know how we act and tell you what to do about it?" I shrugged, then regretted it and grimaced. The dragon laughed at me.

"Oh, very funny." I grumbled. "If you're quite finished, I'd like my things back please." He tossed me my armor and helmet. I examined my chestplate, and, finding that no metal was warped, strapped it back on.

"That's very good armor, you know. Bonecrusher's tail spikes went straight through; didn't alter the shape at all." I frowned.

"What about my shirt and my pack?"

"Your shirt is here, though it'll need a patch job. As for your pack, well, the dragon that brought you here has it. If you want it back, you'll have to talk to him."

"May I please have my shirt back?"

"So polite! Very well, here." He held it out in front of him. "Now, is it fear or respect that makes you ask nicely?"

"A little of both." He raised an eyebrow. I walked up to him and took my shirt and slipped it on. My jacket was in my pack. I'd have to wait until I spoke to the dragon that had found me before I could get it back. This irritated me; my jacket was like my security blanket. "Who do I talk to?" I asked the medic.

"Dreadwing. His room is through here and to the right." He gestured down the hallway. I nodded to him.

"Thank you." The medic seemed pleased with the respect I gave him. I gingerly moved down the hall and entered what was apparently the barracks. It was strange. First of all, all the dragons were in the same room, male mixed with female. Second of all, they were all in human form. I decided that that must be their method of reducing the resources that they needed. One of the males, a young man with glossy black hair, came up to me.

"Hello there human. Ever wonder why all your buddies at the base stay away from us?" I frowned at him.

"No, I don't. I know why. And I'm not like them." He grinned maniacally, showing his fanglike canine teeth.

"Exactly. So I guess I'll have to break you individually."

"I'm injured; have you no honor?" He laughed.

"I'm already a bad guy. What's one more unfair fight?"

"I'm not afraid of you, and you can't beat that out of me."

"Well let's see if you're right then." He moved to punch me, but suddenly found himself face flat on the floor. An older male with pale brown hair had pinned him.

"Do you want to end up with your hide on the wall Maverick? Didn't you hear Dreadwing? Nobody touches her. Now get out of my sight before I have to remind _you_ why everybody stays away from _me_." The younger male slunk away, shooting me dirty looks. My savior said nothing to me, only gestured at the entrance to my right. I turned my helmet over in my hands nervously, then walked down the hall and into Dreadwing's room.

I knew it was rude to hover in doorways, but didn't want to seem disrespectful, so I stopped about halfway across the room. The occupant himself was sitting in the corner of the room, which was the highest point, as the cave had an uneven floor, reading something. He glanced at me as I entered the room, fingered through the rest of the pages, then closed the book. A chill ran down my spine when I saw the cover. He'd been looking through my sketchbook.

"Compliments to the artist," he said, inclining his head to me. I nodded.

"Thank you. I've had a lot of practice." I tried not to shake. It was a bit unnerving to think that something that looked so human was actually a creature with strength far beyond any man's.

"That much is clear." He stood up. "You are here for your things?" I hesitated, then nodded.

"And… I was told that you brought me here. Um, thank you. Frankly… I don't know what would've happened to me if you didn't help me…" Dreadwing nodded.

"Bonecrusher, the dragon that attacked you, has recently fallen ill. Knockout, our medic, has tried to do what he could to help him, but, being in a prison located on a particularly remote island chain, there was little he could do to stop the infection spreading. Normally, he would not attack without reason, but I fear he has become delirious and lost all sense of what is happening around him. I have a favor to ask of you, in return for my earlier assistance. I believe that your base may have the means of helping Bonecrusher. If you could inform them of the problem…" I nodded.

"Of course. I can't guarantee their help, but I can guarantee my own." Dreadwing seemed satisfied with my answer and gestured at the side of the room. My backpack and jacket were sitting against the wall. I went over and got them. Dreadwing, meanwhile, had come down to the main level of the room. He still had my sketchbook. He handed it to me.

"This is the island we call Vephora. It is not the same one that your base is located on. You will need a dragon to take you back. Come." I followed him back into the barracks. "Wily. Barricade. Come here." The brown haired man who had told off Maverick and a brownish-orange haired woman with piercing eyes came up to Dreadwing.

"Yes sir?" asked the woman.

"Our guest's stay here has come to an end. She needs to be taken back to her base. The two of you will fly her there." The woman nodded.

"Will do sir." The brown haired man said nothing, only nodded. Dreadwing turned to me.

"Do not forget your promise."

"I won't." He nodded to me, then returned to his room. The woman cocked her head at me.

"Well come on then. The best exit is this way." I followed the two of them to the other end of the barracks and ignored the nasty looks that Maverick and his friends were giving me. "In case you didn't hear—I've been told humans don't have very good senses—I'm Wily. This here is Barricade. And your name is…?" I hesitated. There was nothing special about my name. It was just like my sleepy little town; plain and simple. Sometimes it embarrassed me.

"Milla." Wily nodded.

"Does it mean anything?" I glanced at my boots.

"Silver ore. My father builds things. He's a carpenter and something of a blacksmith." Barricade huffed.

"Silver ore huh. Alright. Not the worst name I've heard." We'd reached an outcropping. Essentially it looked like an airplane hangar from before the Cataclysm. Here the dragons assumed their normal forms. I recognized them right away; Barricade was 86652, the black dragon with the white eye. Wily was 84576, and was a rusty red color with faint orange-tinted stripes. She leapt straight out into the night.

"She's all yours Barricade!" she called playfully over the wind. The older dragon sighed.

"Okay kid, c'mere." I hesitantly approached him. "Sit right between my shoulders. And don't scream. Got it?" He lowered his left shoulder to the ground so that I could climb onto his back. He had a row of quills that ran down his spine that I hadn't noticed before. I was surprised to find that they were soft, almost like feathers or fur. "Look, just hang on, okay?"

"To what?" I asked, panic rising in my throat.

"Anything." He didn't give me any time to protest. He trotted over to the ledge, crouched, and leapt out into the night. "At least it's stopped raining. Damn pain to fly when you're soaked," he grumbled. I shoved my hands into his quills. He turned his head so that he could look at me. "Don't pull any out or they'll bleed." I nodded. I was shaking a little at the thrill of being so high off the ground. _I was flying!_ Wily fell back behind us.

"How does it feel to fly with us?" she shouted, clearly amused. I grinned, giddy with happiness.

"Amazing!" She seemed surprised, and Barricade even turned to look at me to see if I was being sarcastic. But I wasn't. The wind snapped at my ears. I had clipped my helmet onto my backpack, and I liked it that way. This way I could feel the airflow across my head. "How fast can you go?" Barricade's answer was to sharply drop altitude and arc around the crags, mist from the sea's crashing waves spattering his nose and my face. I laughed. Barricade swooped back up, wings like muffled thunder. I leaned forward as we climbed higher. This was nothing like riding a horse or even like the ship I'd spent weeks on to get here. The rhythm of it was similar, but this was the sky; there was no pull of water or clap of rock. Barricade half-folded his wings and dropped sideways toward the swirling water below. I tensed, but he caught himself just above the waves and banked sharply right. There was something else about flying too; I could almost read Barricade from the way he flew. He leaned right again. At first I was tempted to rearrange myself so that I was still upright, but when I gave a little and leaned with him, the air and the sky and _flight_ suddenly included _me_. The dragon leveled out and snaked upwards, wings open to catch the air and push it behind him, but closed when he pressed forward, so as not to create drag. He dipped and banked right again and I leaned with him; not excessively, but enough so that the airflow seemed more natural. It became almost unconscious, moving with the dragon; like the bobbing your head to music. Finally I saw the main island on the horizon, far to the left of us. _Why did he go right if the base was left?_ We turned left and dipped low, skimming the water, as if hiding from someone. I felt Barricade tense. His quills rose a bit. I turned and saw Wily was flying low too; and she was glancing back and forth frequently. I looked around too. Nothing but black water and the sliver moon in the star-spattered sky. As we approached the main island, Barricade and Wily swooped up, so as not to hit the forty-five feet of vertical rock between the sea and the grassland. They rocketed over the ground until they reached a tree near the ration station. Barricade fanned out his wings and dropped gracefully to the ground. Wily circled above us, keeping watch for some unknown foe. I slid off of Barricade's shoulder. "Thank you so much. Really, that was incredible." I patted the black dragon's neck. He froze for a moment, unsure of how to react.

"…you're welcome," he muttered finally. "Try to help Bonecrusher; he doesn't have much time." I nodded. I would later learn that the Clan was worried about their warrior for multiple reasons, one of which being the trouble he could cause them if he attacked their enemies.


	3. Chapter 2: Bonecrusher

**Chapter 2: Bonecrusher**

I found the barracks empty when I got up the next morning. It was unsurprising; I'd gotten here well past midnight, and my body had a way of insisting that I got the hours of sleep that I required. I had decided to keep with my daily routine and showered when I got back. I'd replaced the bandages on my shoulder and added some antibiotics for good measure. I headed into the bathroom and had a look at it; it was oozing pale pinkish goo that I wiped away with mild disgust, but it was no longer an angry red. I disinfected it, placed fresh wrappings on it and set to work with my jacket and shirt. I put on a new uniform and dug my patch kit out from the bottom of my pack. I easily fixed the shirt, but the tough fibers of my jacket were beyond the scope of my pathetic little needle; I'd have to ask Lei if I could borrow her kit; it had the necessary equipment for handling material like this. Until then, I sat down on my bed and added to my sketch book. I wrote in Barricade's and Wily's names on their respective bios, as well as Bonecrusher's. I sighed. Now was as good a time as any to face the superiors. I slipped my jacket on, and shouldered my pack so that it placed all of its weight on my right side; this was how I'd been wearing it the day before. I was glad; it'd survived unscathed. It hid the tears in my jacket, so I brought it with me.

My knock on the door was met by an exasperated "Who's this?" I said my name and I was instructed to come in. The three superiors were crowded around a desk and looked extremely unhappy. I hoped that they weren't mad at me.

"Private Kapalon," said one of them in a nasal voice, "we have received information that one of the prisoners is behaving strangely. Do you have anything to add?" It was clear he didn't expect any response other than 'no sir.' I took great pleasure in proving him wrong; Captain Bradenson was my least favorite boss.

"Yes sir; the dragon you are referring to is Tag 85548 and goes by the name Bonecrusher. He is quite ill. I was going to inform you of this anyway; is there perhaps a way we could catch him and bring him back here for treatment?" They stared at me.

"_Catch_ him? And how might one catch a _dragon_?"

"This was where I thought you could provide an answer, sir." Bradenson opened his mouth to say something, but Captain Larsky, the most sympathetic of the three, cut him off.

"It is possible, Bradenson. We've done it before."

"Yes, but if he's sick, how do we know that other dragons haven't got whatever he has?" I remembered the bad limp Bonecrusher had had.

"I believe that we are not dealing with an illness, sirs, but rather a badly infected wound."

"Then let it sort itself out. Do you know how hard it is to come by antibiotics these days?" I almost frowned at him, but caught myself.

"Sir, the dragon in question has become delirious and is a serious threat to the safety of the other prisoners and our guards."

"Well then my God, just end it. Put him out of his misery." Hot rage flashed in my throat. I fought it back down.

"Sir, I was under the impression that this institution was established as punishment. How will that punishment continue if the inmate is dead?"

"He's a member of an evil and dangerous terrorist group. Don't you turn into a rights activist, Private, or you'll never see the word Corporal except on Justin's jacket." I hated Captain Bradenson for that. Captain Larsky and Captain Maullum didn't seem very pleased with it either.

"Bradenson, you'd do well to remember that Private Kapalon has done exceptional work as of now." Maullum had that look in his eye that signified he meant business. Bradenson backed off.

"Very well, but it is still going far out of our way to catch and treat a vicious monster. My answer is no." Larsky looked almost apologetically at me and shook his head. Maullum sighed.

"I'm afraid that there is little we can do, Private," he said. "If you would be so kind as to record the date you find him to have died?" I fought the fury howling in my head.

"Of course sirs. It won't be a problem." They dismissed me and I returned to my room and sat dejectedly for about three hours. By then I was getting antsy. I didn't want to go outside, fearful of the response I'd receive from the Decepticons. I ended up spending the rest of the day inside. I was nervous about recording some of what I'd experienced the night before in my formal journal, so I put it in my personal diary instead. I wasn't supposed to keep one, but I just labeled it "Notes" and nobody bothered to examine it. I also added a few sketches from Barricade's back, adding the quills in. By the time I finished, it was dusk, and I showered and went to bed so that I could rise early. I didn't like having my schedule thrown off.

When I woke it was three in the morning, before even my alarm was supposed to go off. This happened every so often. I soon realized that I was not going to be able to go back to sleep, so I got my things together, signed out and set off through the grass. The lack of trees or other structures made navigating in the dark a breeze; plus tonight was a harvest moon, so I could see quite clearly. I made my way to the top of a rise and had a look around. A muffled sound split the night. It was eerie; half a vicious and furious roar, and half a weak and pained howl. _Bonecrusher?_ I mused. I slid down the back of the rise and darted toward the base of the mountains where the sound had seemed to come from. I slipped through the tall grass like a snake, barely rustling it. Once I reached the part of the grassland where the crags from the mountains started, I slowed and dropped to my hands and knees. I crawled forward (with much protesting from my injured shoulder) and hid between two rocks. I made out the silhouette of a dragon, staggering amongst the fallen stones. When he stumbled and thrashed his tail to regain its balance, I recognized him as Bonecrusher. I held my breath. _You are __**not**__ making the same mistake again,_ I thought to myself. I waited and watched. Bonecrusher licked at his front right paw, but he leaned too far and he lost his footing. He gave a final sigh and lay still. The only clue that he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his ribs. I waited another few minutes, then silently approached the massive dragon. And he was _huge_. I hadn't taken scale into account the last time I'd been this close to him; I realized that that was probably due to the fact that I hadn't seen Barricade or Wily up close at that point. Just one of Bonecrusher's teeth was the size of my whole hand. I walked around him until I was about thirty feet from his head. I picked up a stone about the size of my fist and threw it against one of the nearby boulders. The dragon's cloudy eyes snapped open and he uttered a low, deep growl. I took a step back. He seemed to squint at me. _Please don't remember me, please don't remember me!_ He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. I inched forward. When I moved about five feet closer, his eyes slid open again. He parted his jaws, sticky saliva stretching like a spider web between his teeth. The he made a noise I'd never heard a dragon make before; he whimpered. I didn't even know dragons were _capable_ of whimpering. He shuddered and shrank back into the form of a broad-shouldered rusty-haired man. I cautiously approached him. He followed me with his eyes. I moved all the way to his right side; he was lying face up. The sleeve of his uniform had been cut away, presumably by Knockout when the medic had tried to help Bonecrusher. His right arm looked horrible; it was torn by what were obviously claws, and was oozing white fluid. I carefully moved closer, so that I could get a better look. It was worse up close. Patches of black, blue and green dotted the wound site, and despite Bonecrusher's efforts to lick it, it remained crusty and had begun to decompose. I got out my canteen.

"Drink some water; it'll help." He turned his head away. "Please; you need it." He didn't move. I sighed. "I can't help you if you won't take some." He adjusted his head so that he could see me. "Please?" He turned away again. "Fine; at least let me look at your arm." I carefully unsheathed my hunting knife and tapped at the scabs. Bonecrusher tensed and groaned quietly. "If you hold still, it'll hurt less." He did not respond; I could only hope that he understood that I was trying to help. I lined up the knife with one of the scabs and scratched it off. Bonecrusher winced, but didn't move. Blood dribbled from the reopened wound. "Hang on." I repeated this with some of the smaller scabs, but stopped before the more severe ones. I unclipped my first aid kit from my pack and took out my pitifully small phial of antibiotics. "Okay, this'll sting a little, but it'll help, I promise." He watched me intently. I poured it on a gauze pad and carefully wiped it across the wound. The dragon let out a hiss and cringed. "I know, I know, I'm sorry, but it'll help, just give it some time." I had a look at my phial; it was nearly empty. I glanced at Bonecrusher. His eyes were starting to slip shut. I knew what I had done wouldn't be enough. I sighed. I would have to resort to more drastic measures.

I waited until two in the morning before I approached Gar's clinic. Gar was the on-base medic, and he absolutely hated me. I knew he'd hate me even more if he knew what I was up to. I disliked the idea of stealing, but I knew Bonecrusher was going to die if I didn't do something. And stealing from Gar was easier and safer than stealing from my roommates, simply because Gar slept all the way across the compound in the men's barracks. Mari, Lei, Angelia and Michelle were all within six feet from their packs and were light sleepers, so it was a bad idea to approach them. Plus, I'd feel bad. I liked them. Gar didn't like me and I didn't like him, so it left me with a somewhat cleaner conscience. Picking the lock was ridiculously easy; there was only one and it was a combination lock with a hole for the Master Key on the back. Being the nosy and observant person that I was, I knew that Gar didn't keep the key with him; he used the combination. But he did have the key. He'd hidden it behind one of the smaller concrete bricks in the wall. I easily located the loose stone and fitted the key into the back of the lock. It popped open and I slipped it away from the door and pocketed it. I would keep it with me so that it wasn't simply lying on the ground. I slipped past the examining tables and entered the storeroom, which had a combination lock of the same set on it. The Master Key was the same for the outside one and the storeroom one. _Really Gar? I thought you were better than this._ I found the antibiotics bottle and refilled my own. It wasn't efficient—I'd have to come back when I ran out again—but this way there wasn't a bottle missing. Gar had six massive bottles of antibiotic fluid, so I moved this one to the back and placed a full one in front. I then replaced the storeroom lock on the door, slipped back out into the hall and snapped the first lock back into place. I slipped the key back behind the stone and went back to the barracks. I would look suspicious if I was out at 2 A.M. Better that everyone think I was asleep.

I rose later than usual at four thirty and once I'd competed my morning routine it was about four forty-five. I signed out and vanished into the grass. Bonecrusher hadn't moved from the previous day, and I was glad; I hadn't been looking forward to having to hunt him down. His eyes slid open when he heard my footfalls, but he recognized me and the suspicion faded from his face. I repeated the procedure from before, but the wound was large and composed of multiple scratches; I ran out of antibiotic before I finished. Today I'd brought bandages, but I could only cover the parts of the wound that I'd treated. Many of the badly infected parts were still untouched for my fear of doing something incorrectly. I offered Bonecrusher some water and though he seemed reluctant to accept it, he was too tired to fight me over it and allowed me to give him some. I moved him to the edge of the clearing so that he would be less visible, and set off to explore the crags.

This area was one I wasn't very familiar with, especially once I got into the gaps between the small mountains. It seemed harsher than the windy plains; it was dead silent. A dragon swooped overhead. I slipped into the shadow of a boulder and froze. He didn't appear to see me and continued on. 76670 was an aggressive male and was not from the same Clan as Bonecrusher and the others—I used the leading number of a dragon's code to identify clans. He'd bullied me from the start and I suspected that given any excuse he would kill me without hesitation. He was deep red with a pale cream underbelly and jet black markings. He had two gaps in his front teeth where the canines should've been; I wondered if they'd been knocked out or removed for some reason. I continued through the gully until I reached a stream. I wasn't alone. A dragon lay in the shade of a rocky overhang. I carefully skirted the clearing, trying to identify the creature. He was 46651; an older pale blue male with faded silver markings and a white underbelly. Something seemed amiss about him. I cautiously approached him. He wasn't breathing. I walked around to get a look at his head and felt my blood turn to ice. The ventral surface of his neck was clawed apart and I could see all the way to the bone. The carcass he begun to decompose; it was already swollen from gas buildup and maggots. I backed away, eyes watering at the smell. I shivered to think of how he'd met his end. At least it had been quick; his trachea and arteries had all been severed at once. He'd probably lived for less than a minute after it was done. I found his page in my sketchpad and scrawled "deceased" across it. A pang of sadness lanced through me. There were times when I'd though he'd wanted to talk to me.

I continued to smuggle antibiotics to Bonecrusher for a few more days. I was relieved to find that his wound appeared to be healing. He had started refusing water again, though, so my worries continued. I was feeling increasingly guilty every time I had to steal from Gar; I had used the equivalent of nearly half a jar so far. Nevertheless, Bonecrusher's survival outweighed my reluctance. It was three A.M. I made my way into to the examination room and toward the storage room.

"Well well well, I've caught a little thief, now haven't I?" I froze. It was Gar's voice. I turned and found him perched on a countertop, looking quite smug. I shivered. This could get me dismissed, or worse, impounded. "So, back again are we?" drawled Gar. I bristled. He knew he had me and he was rubbing it in. "Antibiotics are quite expensive nowadays; I trust you know that. Now tell me Milla, what exactly are you doing with what you've taken?" I frowned at him. "You know, I could always go tell the superiors what you've been up to…" Gar examined his knuckles absentmindedly. I bared my teeth.

"I've needed them." The medic hopped down from his perch. He was in his late twenties and had hair the color of obsidian rock. His eyes were like mercury.

"For what?"

"I've run out."

"_No_, really? Have a seat." He gestured at a stool. "Face the wall and take off your chest armor." I glared at him. "Do I look like someone you can reason with?" I grudgingly did as I was told. "You can leave your underwear on. Now turn and face away from me." A shiver passed through me as his fingers tapped the bandages on my shoulder. "Well what have we here? Think I'll have a look at this…" I smoldered as he peeled them away. He was quiet for a moment. His fingers caught on the stitches that Knockout had given me. I flinched. "Very curious. Who did this?"

"The injury or the stitches?"

"Do you think I care how it happened? Who gave you the stitches?" I growled under my breath.

"One of the prisoners. They found me after I'd been attacked."

"Mmm hmm. Well, first of all let's get them out; it's about healed. Hold very still please." I tried not to whimper as he pulled the thread out of my skin. "There we are. You don't seem to be regularly treating this with anything, which leads me to believe that my antibiotics are not going toward your injury." I heard the telltale click of a loaded crossbow. "So you're going to show me exactly what you're doing with them. Put your shirt back on, I'm done." I reached for my armor but he put his foot on it. "Oh no. You'll be without that. Leave it under the table there." I growled under my breath and put my shirt on. It was a little too big without my armor. I reached for my pack. "You won't need that." I fixed him with a wicked glare. "If you must have it, then I'll carry it." He picked up my backpack and gestured at the door. Move it," he said, prodding me with the crossbow, "or do you want to end up a shish kabob?" I went all the way to the door, then asked if I could sign out. "I'll do that." He scrawled my name down and then his own underneath it, but set twenty minutes later. I decided that he must've done it so that he didn't appear associated with my departure. He poked me again. "Go on." I reluctantly led him to the clearing. Bonecrusher was apparently not keen on visitors; he was gone. "Well," said Gar expectantly. Right about then, a massive brownish mass leapt down from the mountainside above us. Bonecrusher roared at Gar, lips curled back to reveal his hooked fangs. Gar continued to point the crossbow at me, but was clearly spooked. "I'll shoot her if you attack me," he said to the dragon, the fear evident in his voice. I tried to remedy the situation.

"Hey hey, Bonecrusher, don't worry, he's…um… well… Don't hurt him, he's on my side. See? I tapped the symbol on my uniform and gestured at Gar's. It was the same save for the caduceus beside it. Bonecrusher growled, spiked tail swishing. "I… he asked me to bring him here." The dragon's mouth twitched, but his quills began to flatten and his muscles relaxed. He hissed quietly and nosed his forepaw. I was glad he wasn't licking it. Gar caught sight of the wound and stiffened. "Oh my God…" Bonecrusher glared at him. His glowing molten eyes slid back and forth between Gar and his weapon. I turned to look at the medic. "Put it down," I said sternly. Gar gripped the crossbow tighter. "Or he might kill you. And I can't stop him." Bonecrusher growled again and the medic dropped the weapon. I kicked it away. Bonecrusher let up the act instantly once he realized I wasn't in any immediate danger. He moaned and sank to the ground. I went over to him and patted his snout. He closed his eyes. Gar stared at us. "Go ahead and shift back," I told the dragon, "he can't hurt you." I lowered my voice. "Maybe he'll even help you; he's a medic." Bonecrusher groaned quietly and shrank back to the form of the reddish-haired soldier. I rolled him onto his back and had a closer look at his arm. I heard Gar's scuffling footsteps. "Don't touch the crossbow. He can shift back and kill you any time he wants." Truthfully, I wasn't so sure. The change had taken a heavy toll on Bonecrusher; he was panting and twitched every so often. I sensed Gar standing over us. His gaze moved up and down the wound site, then I felt his hand on my shoulder, pushing me away.

"Move," he said quietly, "let me." I watched from a few feet away while he examined the dragon. "This is bad," he murmured. "He already has blood poisoning." He went through his own pack, which, unlike my own, was mainly medical supplies. He removed a scalpel and began clearing away the scabs. When he started removing bits of black substance, I realized why the scratches had appeared so thin.

"Knockout gave him stitches," I breathed. "But he didn't have an antibiotic." Gar didn't ask who Knockout was.

"I need the green phial." I rummaged around in his surprisingly organized pack and held it out to him. "Take the stopper out." I obediently popped the piece of rubber out of the top. Gar took it and splashed it generously over the open wound. Bonecrusher howled. "Hold still big guy, or it won't work." He unpacked an I.V. kit. I was impressed by how calm he kept; my hands were shaking. But this was his job, and if he'd panicked in the beginning then they'd trained him out of it. He proceeded to re-stitch the wound and bandage it. "We need to get him back to the base. I can't treat him properly here." I knew it was a long walk.

"I have an idea; just trust me on this." Gar frowned.

"What is it?" I grabbed my pack and started jogging away.

"No time to explain; you'll see soon enough!" I made my way about three miles out to a rise on the plains and scanned the area for any movement. Nothing. "Come on, the one time you need a dragon…" Right about then, I noticed a winged shadow in the sky. I pulled out my binoculars to get a better look. My heart leapt. Though I was a considerable distance away and it was dark, I could just barely make out one white eye. "Barricade!" I waved my arms to try to get his attention. "_Barricade!_" He didn't seem to notice me. I threw my head back and roared at the top of my lungs. "**_Barricade!_**" I saw his head move. I jumped up and down and flapped my arms like a crazy person. To my relief he changed course and landed atop the next rise. I sprinted over to him. "Barricade," I panted, "Bonecrusher… need… bring him back to base… Can't move him… Need your help…" He cocked his head.

"I… think I followed that. Where is he?" I pointed in the direction I'd come. "Climb on," he instructed. I vaulted onto his back and buried my fingers in his quills. A thrill raced through me as he crouched, paused to let the tension in his muscles peak, and lunged forward. We went fast; much faster than before. I leaned low against the wind, my eyes watering. _How can he see while he's going so fast?_ I noticed through my own teary eyes that we were nearing the pass where Gar and Bonecrusher were.

"Higher, and slow down!" I howled against the wind. Barricade lashed his tail down and we coasted upwards, slowing as we circled above the land. He turned his head, searching.

"There," I heard him growl, and he dropped like a stone. I tensed and flattened myself against his back. I felt the rush of gravity as he opened his wings and arced around toward my companions. Gar was moving toward his crossbow, panicked. Barricade landed with a loud thud and folded his wings. I sprang off of his back and put myself between him and Gar, who had retrieved his weapon.

"Gar, stop! He's here to help! He can fly us back to the base!" Gar gaped at me.

"_Fly_ us? You can't be serious!" Barricade growled.

"It's the fastest way." The medic jumped at Barricade's voice.

"You… can talk?" Barricade snorted.

"Of course I can. We all can. We don't all speak _English_ but we certainly all _speak_." Gar shook himself.

"I… well… Can you carry us?" Barricade huffed.

"I most certainly can…" But I sensed the hesitation.

"At your top speed," I asked him, "how many adult humans can you carry?" He was silent. I knew what he would say.

"I can carry two of you. I can't fly top speed with two, but I can barely fly at all with three." I nodded.

"Then it's settled. Gar, go on; you're the medic. I can walk back." He stared at me. "What are you waiting for? Bonecrusher doesn't have that much time! Go on! Just grab his quills!" Gar shook himself free of his trance.

"Help me get him over to… uh…"

"Barricade," the dragon volunteered, "and you don't have to move him. It's not as if I'm anchored to the ground you know." He padded over to Bonecrusher. "Been a while, eh?" He growled to his fellow Clansman. Gar and I lifted Bonecrusher onto Barricade's back and Gar climbed up behind him. "Just don't let either of you fall," Barricade grumbled, "Or nobody's going to be happy." Gar nodded and took hold of Bonecrusher with one hand and grabbed Barricade's quills with the other. "I'll try to go as smoothly as possible," said Barricade, and then he leapt into the air and they were gone.


	4. Chapter 3: Clearing Fog

So sorry that I haven't updated this... I've been busy. Go visit my Deviantart profile ( ) and you'll understand a little better. I am a person of many hobbies, and writing is just one of them.

Dun dun dunnnnnn and Barri has left to fly BC and Gar to the base! So now Milla can relax.

...

Right?

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Barricade

Dreadwing

Knockout

Soundwave

Blackout

Midst (OC)

Spite (OC)

Malinda (OC)

Minro (OC)

Gee, who knew that I had so many OC's? Minimal parts and dialogue though. Mostly Milla (obviously, this is 1st person), Barricade and Dreadwing.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY more flight scenes~

**Chapter 3: Clearing Fog**

I somehow remembered the walk to the pass being shorter than it was walking back. Maybe that was just because I had been completely goal-oriented whenever I'd made the journey before. A shadow swept across the plains. I shivered and ducked down into the grass. 76670. He was flying lazily over the area. It unnerved me, how calmly he glided over the grass. I knew he'd kill in an instant. Unlike the Decepticons, not all dragons were here purely for war crimes. There were a select few, usually members of the smaller Higher Clans, that were convicted serial killers, rapists, or anything else about that awful. I had long suspected 76670 of being among those few. I decided to lie still until he left the area. I leaned my head forward into the grass and tucked my arms underneath the rest of me. This way, anything not camouflaged was hidden. I would occasionally glance back at the sky, and see nothing, but my peripheral vision was severely hampered by the grass, so I didn't dare move. I heard the sound of wing beats near me. A chill ran down my spine. I moved into a crouch and inched away from the sound. Footfalls moved toward me and I could hear the faint huffling of a creature following a scent trail. A red paw became visible and then 76670's head, glowing green eyes triumphant, slipped through the grass and found me. He hissed and then I realized why he had the gaps in his teeth. Flattened against the roof of his mouth were two unmistakable snake fangs. I froze. His lips curled back into a sinister smile.

"Fancy seeing you here all alone without your armor." I glared at him. "The dirty looks will get you nowhere, Private. Now what were you up to in the crags the other day?"

"Exploring," I said smoothly, "that is sort of my job isn't it?" His menacing eyes were riveted on me. I wished he'd look at something else.

"Have you found anything?" I remembered 46651 and wondered if there was some sort of connection.

"No. Why would you care?" His quills rose.

"Liar liar." His fangs slid out and he hissed at me again, only this time it was much more snakelike. "I know what you know. And you'll die right here before anyone else finds out." He pulled back his head and gaped, ready to strike. A furious scream shattered the sky and 76670 whipped around and howled back. Another dragon roared at him, though I couldn't see who it was from this angle. 76670 lunged and I heard the two scuffling, scattered shrieks of pain evident amidst the growls. Finally 76670 wailed and sprang into the air nursing a blood-spattered paw and disappeared from view. I continued to hold still, unsure of who had come to my rescue. I could hear the other dragon's head swishing through the grass for my scent, and then a familiar white eye became visible behind the vegetation.

"Barricade…" I mumbled, too frightened to raise my voice, and he froze, trying to locate the source of the sound. His head disappeared for a moment and then reappeared on my right, concern evident in his eyes.

"He didn't bite you, did he?" I shook my head. "Good. He's venomous—he'd have killed you." He sniffed me. "You're afraid." I said nothing. He nudged me with his nose. "Stand up. Come on, do you want to be here if he comes back?" That certainly got me to move. I brushed the dust off of myself and got a better look at Barricade. His snout had a scrape on it, presumably caused by 76670's tail or paw, and he was bleeding from a scratch at the base of his neck. The dragon followed my gaze and nudged me. "Nothing new. Now come on, you have some explaining to do." I climbed up his shoulder and onto his back. He shivered suddenly and I realized why. My left knee had brushed what appeared to be a dart in his lower shoulder. That was new; it hadn't been there when I'd spoken to him before. I tugged it out and it spattered clear liquid. It was some sort of poison or tranquilizer, I decided. I patted him and he seemed to relax. "That's going to be part of your explanation. But I don't like it here; too much potential for other… encounters... Hang on." He lunged into the air and suddenly we were moving like the wind again, yet not quite so fast as before. We glided out over the water and headed left. He flew low until we were obscured by the rocky cliffs of the nearest island. I assumed he was taking me to Vephora.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" he grunted.

"Fly so low like that."

"So the Blackwings won't see me." I frowned.

"The other Clan?"

"Yeah, them." He seemed tired. His wings kept drifting low against his side rather than extended out away from him. He would occasionally lose altitude.

"Maybe you should land." He said nothing. I just hung on nervously. Finally I spotted a land mass on the horizon. Barricade rose higher and we flew over the island, but did not stop. "Isn't this Vephora?"

"No." I realized that he was panting.

"Barricade, stop." He ignored me and headed toward some particularly menacing rocks just offshore. The Thunder Barrier. It was the remains of another island that had eroded away and kept any ships that were crazy enough to come near here out of the view of the dragons. Barricade was sinking now, and his wing muscles shivered. "You need to land," I said worriedly, "or we'll fall!" He growled and threw himself at one of the crags. His claws caught on it and he hung there, panting. Spray from the waves breaking against the rock spattered us. Barricade growled again and started climbing. He was visibly shaking now, his paws slipping on the damp rock. I clung to him, terrified. Finally he found a ledge and hauled himself onto it. He moved away from the edge and lay down, eyes closed. I hopped off of his back. "Barricade?" He glanced at me through a half-open eye. "What's wrong…?" He let his head fall to the ground.

"P…poison…" he hissed. "Guards… afrai… hic!" his slitted pupils flattened to barely slivers and he went rigid for a moment, then twitched. A violent spasm gripped him, then he retracted back to his human form, shivering. I nervously went over to him.

"Barricade?" He opened his eyes and looked at me.

"It… it's not… enough… to kill me…" he said, teeth chattering. "D…dammit… Fuckin'… guards…" It was cold by the water. The sun hadn't come out yet, so the ocean still gave off cool updrafts, and the stone was freezing. I rummaged around in my pack and found my jacket.

"Sit up," I instructed. Barricade frowned at me.

"I'm fine… The… shaking… will stop… in a… few minutes…" His eyes were becoming glazed and he was having trouble keeping them open.

"I don't believe you." He groaned and pushed himself up with much difficulty. I pulled him over against the rock face and draped my jacket over his shoulders. He said nothing, only closed his eyes again. I curled up on top of my pack and tried to conserve heat. The wind was like a volley of arrows against my back. A shiver passed through me. After about ten minutes Barricade fell unconscious, his chin resting on his chest. I wished I could do the same. I spent about an hour surveying the other tall spires of the Thunder Barrier. I drew a few in my sketchpad, despite my numbing hands. After some time a white fog materialized beneath us and began to rise, swirling and threatening to engulf us and our perch. I nudged Barricade awake when it started to obscure my long distance vision. He growled and opened his eyes. I was relieved that they were no longer milky white.

"What…?" Realization dawned in his eyes. "Dammit, we have to get out of here… This is the morning fog; I don't think there's a dragon out there that can fly through this stuff once it gets thick, 'cept maybe Soundwave…" He stood up and brushed my jacket off his shoulders. I stuffed it in my pack along with my sketchpad and pencils. Barricade shook himself and his eyes glowed. He rapidly grew back to his dragon form and waited for me to climb onto his back. "See; told you the stuff wouldn't kill me." I frowned and he paused. He knew I'd been worried. "…whatever." He leapt into the air and flew for the island we'd passed earlier.

"Why didn't we just go there in the first place?" I asked. The dragon's quills pulsed slightly, similar to one clenching and unclenching their jaw.

"…I don't know…" That was when I first began to realize that the dragons, although immensely more powerful than humans, were still vulnerable to the same things we were. The poison had probably influenced Barricade's sense of direction.

We landed at the site of some old ruins. I slid off of Barricade's back and looked around in awe.

"Whoa…" He gestured at a stone.

"You can look around later. Right now you have some explaining to do." Wilting, I settled myself atop the rock. The dragon lied down on his elbows and feet like a dog would. "Start from the beginning; who is this "Gar"?" I sighed and explained about the stealing. Barricade was surprised. "Didn't take you for the thieving type. I have to thank you on Bonecrusher's behalf though; he probably would've died otherwise." Once I'd filled him in on my capture and what had happened before I'd gone and gotten him, he seemed to understand. "That would explain why your guards had such a problem with me. Your medic is a spineless ass; he asked me to mock attack the base while he slipped inside with Bonecrusher amongst the chaos. That nearly cost me. What's with your scientists that are making those things, eh? They keep increasing the potency." I shrugged. "Well you'd best find out before somebody turns up dead." That reminded me of 46651.

"Barricade… do your… fellow inmates… _often_ kill people?" He grunted.

"Often? Hell, I don't know about _successfully_, but yeah, there's always somebody trying to kill somebody else. You just learn not to get in the middle of it." I fidgeted. He narrowed his eyes. "Why…?" I told him about what 76670 had said. He moaned. "Aww, kid…! How is it that of all the killers out there, you manage to piss off Minro?"

"I think maybe if I tell someone then he'll leave me alone because it's already out…"

"_What?! _Are you_ fucking insane?! _He'll tear you limb from limb if you so much assqueak!Aww_ fuck_…! We're gonna have to go to Dreadwing about this. This is bad news. Why do you insist on being such a damn trouble magnet?" I bowed my head in shame, trembling slightly at the thought of a monster out to kill me. For a moment Barricade continued to glower, but when he realized how afraid he'd made me his gaze softened. "Look… I didn't mean to scare you…" I said nothing. He paused for a moment, unsure of how to continue. "…come here." I trudged over to him. "As long as Dreadwing or I have anything to say about it, he won't touch you." I hugged him. He tensed momentarily, then awkwardly lifted his paw and placed it across my shoulders. He let me cling to him for a few moments, and then gently nudged me away. "Humans," he muttered, "never thought I'd willingly touch one." But he leaned over so that I could climb onto his back anyway. I examined the site of the dart wound. It was a tiny prick, but it had swollen ominously. I let my finger hover over it and the dragon shuddered and his quills stood on end. "…don't touch that…"

We were barely in the air for ten minutes before Barricade started shaking again. I could hear him swearing under his breath; we were crossing open sea. We started to drift back and forth until finally the dragon's pride succumbed to the toxin.

"Wh… which w…w…way?" he stammered, wings shuddering violently to keep us aloft.

"I don't know! What does it look like?"

"…does what look like…?" He didn't even remember where we were going.

"Vephora. Are there any landmarks?"

"Oh… Vephora… right…"

"Landmarks."

"Um… no… It's bigger…" His head swayed and we dropped fifteen feet.

"Anything different?" I asked, trying to keep the terror out of my voice.

"Oh… yeah… Uhhh…" his tongue caught on his teeth and blood dribbled down the side of his jaw. "L…lightning tree… somewhere… Which way…" I glanced around frantically for a dead tree. Finally I spotted it; not the closest island, but possibly reachable.

"Left and straight, let's go!"

"…which… left?" I leaned in the direction.

"Follow my weight." Barricade coughed; it was a harsh, dry sound that made my teeth grind. A spatter of red dotted his muzzle. I wasn't sure if it was from his bitten tongue or something more serious, and I didn't want to find out now. "Come on!" He grumbled to himself and flew, fighting the headwind toward the blob of greenish-gray. At the edge he dropped and barely caught himself in time. We still crashed, and I went flying into a bush. Barricade jerked back to his human form and retched. Frothy red-stained saliva was strung between his teeth like a sort of grotesque spiderweb. I looked around for any sort of help. No one. Barricade was so cold and drenched in sweat he may as well have fallen into the water. I grabbed him under his arms and started dragging him. He did not protest. When I reached to top of a hill he mumbled something. "What?"

"…scream for them… Like… like this…" He managed to produce a weak pattern of noises. It was short and easy to remember. I took a huge breath and repeated it at a much greater volume. The island seemed to eat the sound. I would not be discouraged, however, and tried again. My throat was getting scratchy. Once again the grass swallowed my attempted roar. Fury and helpless frustration bubbled up in my throat and I threw my head back and just screamed. No pattern, no particular pitch, not even the word "help". I just screamed and screamed. I mashed my every emotion into it. Anything so that a pair of ears _somewhere_ would detect it. I was getting lightheaded and hoarse voiced, but I no longer cared. Through the spots in my eyes, a dark silver dragon appeared. _Please let it be a friendly…_ I didn't recognize him. Little did I know that _he_ knew _me_. He'd watched me just as I'd watched his clan, and he could appreciate my work. I would not personally meet him until a long time into the future, but his name was Soundwave.

The next thirty minutes were a blur. The blackish-silver dragon did not speak to me, just carefully grabbed my shirt in his jaws and dropped me onto his back. He'd done the same with Barricade and I figured I should keep my friend from falling. This dragon was considerably larger that Barricade, and flew the two of us with ease. We were at Knockout's within the minute. Then I was just somewhere for about twenty-five minutes, answering questions and worrying about a bully and a murderer. And then I was asleep.

I woke when something prodded me in the back. I just held still at first, trying to place myself. I was somewhere vaguely familiar… Vephora. Again with the prodding… I rolled over, irritated. Staring straight at me were two children, a boy and a girl, both around age seven. I blinked and wondered if I'd gone mad. They giggled at me. I said nothing, just watched them. A woman (or more accurately, a dragoness) came into the room and sighed deeply when she saw them.

"Spite and Malinda. Come here _right now_." I almost smiled. She sounded like my mother. The two trotted out of the room, chittering excitedly. The dragoness sighed and looked at me. "I'm sorry they insist on haunting you. Anything new is interesting for them, and they've never seen a human before." This time I did smile. But something more startling was clawing its way into my head. The only way for children—no, _hatchlings_—to be anywhere near the isle was for them to have been born here. Which meant the dragons were reproducing. But then, I thought to myself, whatever made us think that they wouldn't? Humans, if left to their own devices here, most certainly would. The boy's fuzzy brown hair appeared around the corner. The dragoness shooed him away. "Should've named him Nuisance instead of Spite. Boy's got a knack for trouble." I smiled again.

"Whose are they?" The dragoness rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, does it even matter at this point? Besides the hatchlings, you'd be hard pressed to find a virgin here. The boy's father is dead; a distant cousin of Dreadwing's. And his uncle, Maverick, isn't the most shining example for him, you know? His mother… she's here but she doesn't watch him. So I keep an eye on him. The girl is my niece; both of her parents are dead. I'm Midst by the way. And you are… Milla?" I nodded. Suddenly my name was being chanted over and over as the hatchlings paraded back into the room. Midst looked like her head was going to explode. I figured I'd give her a hand.

"Hi there," I said and sat on the edge of my cot. "What are you doing?" The boy puffed out his chest.

"I'm Captain Spite and this is Private Mal!" he said in a mock of a deep impressive voice. "We have to watch the human so that she doesn't do anything bad!" The girl, slightly younger than her playmate, looked hurt.

"Spite! You said I could be a Officer!"

"Well I changed my mind." I stepped in to avoid calamity.

"If you're in the military you can't just change your mind. You have to stick with it. I'm Private Kapalon, but go ahead and call me Milla. What do you have to stop the human from doing?" I silently laughed at the fact that they were speaking to me as if I was not the human that they were watching.

"We gotta keep the human outa the barracks!" barked 'Captain' Spite. I smirked.

"Okay. But I don't think you know a thing about humans."

"Yeah we do!" chirped Malinda, "they're slow an' little and they go like this," she staggered around with her head up and her legs forced straight.

"Okay, then let's play a little game. I'm the human and you gotta keep me out of the barracks. Okay?" Midst was looking at me as if I was suicidal. I grinned at her.

"Yeah!" Spite howled.

"Ready? Go!" I jogged across the room for the door, the hatchlings on my tail. Spite was snapping commands and grabbing at me. I pretended to trip. "Oh no," I gasped dramatically and fell. Surprisingly Malinda reacted the fastest and pounced.

"I got her! Do I getta pomoshun?" I tried my hardest not to laugh at her pronunciation error.

"Who says you've got me?" I growled playfully and wriggled out of her grasp.

"Stop her!" yowled Spite, and we were off.

I honestly have no idea what was going on in the barracks before we came in, but whatever it was it stopped when the ridiculously overdramatic teenager and her pursuers came barreling into the room. Spite really did trip me that time.

"Oh no!" I said again. I was beginning to enjoy this. "They've got me!" The three of us became a writhing mass on the floor, me 'attempting to break free' and them dragging me down. Eventually I realized we were making a scene and flopped over on my back and stuck out my tongue. Spite took a minute to figure out that I was 'dead'.

"Now we 'afta drag the person back to jail!" he announced proudly and took hold of my foot and tugged. "Mal, you gotta help me!" Malinda grabbed my other foot and the two of them managed, with a bit of surreptitious help from me, to drag me out of the barracks. When we got back into my room Midst told them that that was enough for today and that it was time to go to sleep. They both groaned and trudged out of the room. Midst raised an eyebrow at me.

"You didn't have to play with them."

"Why not? They wanted to." She laughed.

"Because they're a handful! Impossible to wear out." I grinned.

"Oh, you should've seen me when I was their age." She laughed and then followed the hatchlings into the barracks.

I decided I was bored and took my sketchbook out of my backpack. I decided to add pages for Spite and Malinda. Although I didn't know what their dragon forms were, I jotted down their human appearance.

"It's about time someone played with those two." I didn't jump, but I startled a little. The dragon standing in the doorway was tall and broad shouldered yet thin. His hair was black with lighter highlights and his eyes glittered blue and red. "I sometimes do, but not often enough. I've got other things to do you know. I'm a soldier."

"So how much of an idiot did that dramatic incident make me look like?" I asked, shaking my head and going back to my notes.

"A complete one. But honestly, most of us are idiots; and I don't mean the comic kind. I'm Blackout. The medic wants to talk to you."

I followed Blackout over to the medic's portion of the cave. A particularly dejected soul was sitting off to the side of the room; he looked like he'd eaten something that didn't agree with him. Knockout himself was on the other side of the room. Dreadwing was with him and with a shiver of cold I recognized Barricade prone on the floor behind them. I felt like someone had just used my spine as a xylophone. Apart from Barricade, I knew next to no-one here. And though I had talked to Dreadwing and Knockout before, I was still uneasy without a familiar face.

"Er, yes sirs?" I straightened and put on my best submissive attitude; the same one I used with my own superiors.

"Do you know what happened?" asked Knockout bluntly. I froze for a moment from being put on the spot, but then mentally gave myself a shake and nodded.

"I do sirs. Would you like me to explain?"

"If you would be so kind." Dreadwing gestured at a chair. Once the three of us had sat down, I proceeded to explain all the way from finding Bonecrusher to the crash landing. They both were caught completely off-guard by my stealing; perhaps I just gave off an innocent and naïve aura. Or perhaps they were simply confused by how easily I handled my conflicting loyalties. My second idea proved correct. Dreadwing eyed me closely. "You did not feel as if you had betrayed your own by taking their supplies for one of ours?" I shook my head.

"Not to be rude, but most people I talk to, yourself included, seem to oversimplify this situation. It suddenly becomes human versus dragon—or, more accurately, never shifted away from human versus dragon. The point of this isle is not for each side to resent each other and yet live with each other like bickering siblings; you're here for your war crimes and we're here to keep an eye on you. That includes making sure that you and your fellows are safe and can live peacefully until your punishment has ended. But unfortunately, as time has passed and relations have dwindled, I think both parties have lost sight of that… And it pains me to see the lengths that either of us will go to in order to ensure our 'safety' from the other. There aren't supposed to be 'sides' anymore; just us. Humans and dragons, stuck way the hell out here, away from what we know and trying to sort things out. That's how I see it. Helping Bonecrusher _was_ my job. That's why I'm here; to make sure things don't fall apart more than they already have. But sometimes it's hard to do that…" Dreadwing was quiet for a moment. His eyebrows inched together ever so slightly and the corner of his lip twitched. My blood ran cold and a pang of anxiety pricked me. The deep panic of not being taken seriously resurfaced and crouched, fearful, in my head. This was the expression that I had so long known to be silent laughter; this was the look adults gave me when I had a somewhat outlandish idea that they thought would never work. I felt ridiculed. Had he not been in a position of power I would've called him on it, but he was, so I just fell silent and dropped my eyes to the ground, acknowledging my defeat. I was surprised when he leaned over so that he was eye level with me.

"You're not a soldier. That much is clear. Where were you born?" A stab of incredulity vibrated through me. No-one had ever really _asked_ me where I came from.

"A small town in the middle of nowhere called Waterfort. We didn't get much traffic; we were right at the heart of a huge mountain range. My father and I sometimes worked with the local maker—that was what we called the guy that did virtually anything; butcher, carpenter, candle-maker, smith… if you could think of it, he probably knew how to do it. Nothing too special, though. I'm your average specimen of humankind." Dreadwing was giving me that cryptic half-smile again.

"You're how old? Forgive me for asking; our human forms grow at a different rate than a true human's…"

"I turned 18 six months ago sir."

"You've been here for four months, correct?"

"Just about." Dreadwing nodded.

"They ran out of options." It was a crude way of putting it, but I nodded. "Yet you alone have managed to make contact with us. Where all others have failed, you have succeeded." I was taken aback. I hadn't expected to be complimented by anyone once I realized what the Isle was like, least of all the prisoners themselves.

"Corporal Justin has…" Dreadwing cut me off.

"The Low Clan lives apart from the rest of us. They are the exception, and I believe your superiors know this. No, only you have been able to reach us… It is strange. I doubt it is your age or your gender; we've had other young humans, male and female, attempt to interact with us and none of them had any success. Perhaps it is your upbringing that gives you an edge; perhaps whether or not you are a soldier has little to do with this."

"Maybe… sir… maybe it's _because_ I'm not a soldier. I've been around plenty of them, and, when I think about it, it makes a lot of sense actually. I mean, a soldier spends a lot of his time thinking about how to destroy the enemy, yes? He can't think about who the enemy is—what job they had before the war, if they have kids and a wife at home—because if he were to make that sort of connection it would hinder his ability to attack and kill them. And then, even once the war is over, I think… I think some of that barrier remains in place. He still can't think about anyone he considers the enemy on a personal level; it's a defense mechanism. But I… I don't have that. I've spent all my time _trying_ to figure out what's going on inside someone's head, not worrying about whether they'll try to kill me. There's not that 'him or me' mentality. Maybe that's why I'm here right now… My job isn't a soldier's job. And really, nobody's job here is. This is a remote colony, not a battlefield." Dreadwing nodded slowly.

"I understand what you are saying. And I agree. I certainly do not consider why a person behaves in such the way that they do. But I also believe that it is a personal trait as well. I doubt that all civilians think like you do." I dipped my head.

"Um, no sir… I don't think they do either." Dreadwing was giving me that look again. I had now begun to equate it with prying curiosity. I disliked it. Meanwhile, Knockout was continuing to monitor Barricade.

"Well then," he growled, "if you want to do your job a little more, tell your boys to stop loading those damn darts with so much tranquilizer. I don't have an antidote and it's potent enough to kill at this amount. Do you have the dart?" I shook my head.

"I pulled it out sir."

"Did it seem empty?"

"No sir; some poured out when I removed it." Knockout shook his head.

"Be glad you did; any more of the stuff and he'd be comatose. Though I will concede Barricade is small for a male of our kind, he shouldn't be this out of it." I looked at my friend, worried.

"He won't… die… will he?" Knockout huffed.

"Grown rather attached to him, have you? Huh, I'd hardly think he'd be the one to befriend a human, but…"

"I don't really know anyone else," I said in my defense. I couldn't stand it whenever people made romantic jokes—particularly when it was clear that the subjects weren't interested in each other. But I forced myself to swallow my pride while Knockout chuckled. Dreadwing said nothing. He didn't seem to appreciate the joke either.

"No, he won't die. He'll be confined to the barracks with no exercise for a considerable amount of time, but he should recover with no lasting effects." Dreadwing nodded and turned to me.

"You and I have other matters to discuss. You mentioned a dragon you referred to as 76670; do you by chance know his name?" I hesitated, then remembered what Barricade had said about the matter. Dreadwing would probably know how to deal with the situation.

"Barricade said his name was Minro." Dreadwing's eyes widened and then he grimaced.

"This is a complex problem. Minro has no clan and bows to no pressure from other dragons. Had it been any other dragon I would threaten war between our clans if he were to harm you, but I cannot act against Minro in such a way. The most I can do for you is keep eyes on you." Hot fear mixed with embarrassment crawled up my neck.

"I'm sorry to be such a bother to you. You don't have to do anything…"

"I do if you'd like to live. And we owe the lives of two of our own to you; I cannot ignore that."

"It's my fault Barricade got into this mess anyway; I went and asked him for help."

"And he gave it to you. That was his choice. You are entitled to our protection."

"Thank you sir." He nodded. "If I may inquire, how long have I been here?"

"You've been AWOL for one night." I groaned quietly and Dreadwing's lip twitched in an amused expression. "We didn't think it a good idea to take you back to your base right away. You were tired and somewhat confused." I sighed. "These things happen," said Dreadwing knowingly, "and I believe if you strategically mention my support that it may not hinder your advance through the ranks." I smiled inwardly. He'd known I was uncomfortable. Perhaps he'd even been in my position, once, a long time ago. "Even so," he said and began to walk back toward the barracks, "I do not believe it is a good idea to stay out for a second time. Come." I trotted along behind him. He was tall—at least six foot six—and loomed above me by over a foot. I looked like a child next to him. "Blackout. You will shadow us." I caught the 'us' and glanced at Dreadwing, confused. He continued through the barracks. "The rest of you should all be aware that the girl is now formally our ally," he said loudly, making sure everyone could hear. "Should anything or anyone threaten her I expect you to act as if she were your clanmate." Midst caught Maverick making a face and socked him in the jaw.

I followed Dreadwing to the exit that Barricade and Wily had taken me to the first time I'd been here. Here he assumed his own dragon form. When I saw his coloration I realized why he must've rescued me from Bonecrusher that day; he was the dark blue alpha I'd spoken to weeks ago. It was easy enough to distinguish an alpha dragon; their posture and the way the others reacted to them were key indicators. I had also noticed, however, that the higher in the ranks a dragon was, the more decorative their quills and horns appeared. Dreadwing's quills were yellow-tipped and stood straight where his head met his neck. They were also longer than the others'. He also had small horns on the back of his jaw, something I hadn't noticed on any other dragon from his clan. I'd seen them on alphas from other clans, but his were smaller than theirs; as if he was reluctant to announce his dominance. I did not mention this. He was much larger than Barricade; his wingspan was probably one and one half times that of my friend. He had two frills on the sides of the tip of his tail that he kept stretching and folding; as if fidgeting. He leaned over so that I could climb onto his back. I settled myself at the base of his neck and hung on to his quills. They were also considerably stiffer than Barricade's; this was probably what made them stand on end. He didn't crouch like Barricade had; he simply stepped out into the air. He flew much more smoothly than the others; perhaps he simply soared more often than he utilized powered flight. When I turned to look behind me I realized Blackout, a dark gray dragon with lighter markings and similar wingspan, flew the same way. I figured it was simply a matter if physiology. I decided that I liked Barricade's erratic and almost joyful swooping better.

We coasted along the water, the gray clouds above us like the surface to an ocean of sky. I did not have the deep focus of flight like I'd had with Barricade, so I twisted and looked around at the land masses we were passing. When I turned to look at Blackout I noticed he'd remained above us. I put two and two together and realized that it was a tactic; a formation. Blackout was in a good position to attack should anyone rush us. _Do they expect an attack?_ I spotted my island appearing on the horizon. There was no sunset tonight; the stormy skies simply stole the light from the sky. Blackout vanished in the fading light. Dreadwing angled upward and thrust his wings to the sea. We rose rapidly and he cleared the rock ledges. He glided over a few hills and then simply stepped out of the sky, his wings and tail stretched open like kites. He landed soundlessly. I slipped off his back before he leaned over. Blackout was simply gone; no wonder Dreadwing had chosen him. I thanked the great blue dragon and trotted back toward the base. He didn't leave; he watched me the whole time. His looming shadow was still there when I reached the entrance to the base and turned to look back.


End file.
